


Impersonator

by annagarny



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Diplomacy, Faeries - Freeform, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gender or Sex Swap, Girl!Derek, M/M, well temporarily anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annagarny/pseuds/annagarny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fucking faeries. </p><p>The only good thing about being temporarily transformed into a woman was that he apparently looked like Laura incarnate. Which was kind of handy, given the legendary status of the Hale Alpha Females.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Fuck.” Okay, so Derek’s not the most verbose person on the planet, but he felt that a loud and concise exclamation of profanity was appropriate. 

Fucking faeries.

He pulled his phone out of his jeans (which had been tight enough ten minutes ago but were now cutting off the circulation to his thighs) and his thumb hovered over the speed-dial menu.

Not Scott. He’d bring Isaac and they’d laugh until they couldn’t breathe, then he’d have to get himself home, anyway. Not Stiles, hell no not Stiles. Well, he could call Stiles. But that would lead to bad things happening. Not Cora, because she was living with Peter and besides it was almost two AM and she had school in the morning. And Peter wasn’t even on the speed dial anymore. For good reason.

Allison... no. Because she had a habit of telling her father everything after the whole scene with Jen and the lack of familial communication leading to a series of ritual sacrifices.

Lydia it was. He pressed option ‘6’ and waited for her to answer.

“This better be good, Hale.”  
“Trust me it is. Can you meet me at the loft?”  
“Derek? What’s wrong with your voice?”  
“Can I explain in person?”  
“Derek... did you follow that scent? The one that Stiles and I _specifically_ told you not to because we were researching what it might lead to?”

Derek’s shoulders dropped.

“Maybe.”  
“You are insufferable and very fortunate that I have a high threshold for your bullshit. Meet me at the loft in twenty minutes. You owe me breakfast and a new pair of shoes."  
“Right.” He said to dead air; it was a good thing he had a decent credit rating. All the late-night callouts to Ms Martin were costing him a fortune. At least she didn’t have insane taste, just high-end.

He looked down at himself and cursed again. 

Fucking faeries.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“So, let me get this straight.”  
“You’ve said it five times already, Lydia. Saying it again isn’t going to change the fact that I’m a girl until I _learn my lesson_.”  
“Woman.”  
“Woman, whatever. Those were my favourite jeans, okay? I had to actually claw them off myself because I couldn’t feel my feet.”  
“That’s because you have a ridiculous booty.”  
“Don’t call it that!” Derek lamented, throwing himself down on his bed. He’d staggered to the Camaro after Lydia had agreed to meet him at the loft, but when he’d tried to get into the car he’d found that his new legs simply couldn’t bend that far in his current jeans. 

He’d driven through most of Beacon Hills in a burgundy Henley, his leather jacket and black boxers that dug into his new hips awkwardly and had a pathetic bunching of fabric at the front where his dick used to be.  

The jeans had been thrown in the trunk, he couldn’t stand to look at them after he’d been forced to tear them to pieces in order to be able to bend down. 

“Anyway. The faeries that Stiles and I told you specifically not to go hunting for have now, thanks to your bitching about women always taking advantage, switched out your Y chromosome for an X and you’re stuck like this until further notice?”  
“Yes.”  
“Did they actually give specific instructions on how to reverse the spell?”  
“Yes, Lydia, they handed me a guidebook entitled ‘Suddenly You’re A Chick - How To Turn Back Before Things Get Completely Fucked.”  
“No need to be snarky.”  
“Oh, yes there damn well is. I’ve got boobs!” Derek sat up on the bed and grabbed said appendages to demonstrate and immediately regretted it. He had boobs, yes. Nice ones, apparently, and they enjoyed being gripped like that, if the sudden perkiness of his nipples was anything to go by.

“And you’re going to need a bra. And new jeans, some shirts that will fit without looking like you’ve raided your brothers’ wardrobe and probably shoes that aren’t threatening to fall off when you walk.”  
“My shoes fit fine, actually.” He’d been surprised at that. Sitting in the car he’d had to pull the seat forward a few inches to comfortably reach the pedals, and the rear-view mirror adjusting had taken a couple of minutes. But his boots weren’t over-big on him, a pair of thicker socks and they’d be fine.

“You’re at least three inches shorter than you were when I saw you this afternoon, Derek, your feet have to have shrunk a little.”  
“Maybe like one size.”  
“Hence, shoe shopping.”  
“No, no shoe shopping. I’m staying here until this curse- spell- thing! wears off.”  
“Somehow I don’t think that will work.” Lydia pointed out. “You don’t even look like yourself at all anymore, you look more like Cora. Except for your hair - but you’ve got the right shape face to pull off the pixie cut.”  
“What?”  
“Well, if you looked more like yourself and less like your sister, I mean-” Lydia reached out and before Derek could stop her she’d cupped one of his boobs in her palm, “These are barely a B cup, you could bind them up and just keep being yourself... but your nose is different and your jaw is softer.”  
“Huh.” Derek’s brain had kind of... broken. Lydia was, effectively, feeling him up. And there was nothing. No interest, not even the barest stirrings. He knew for a fact if she’d done this to him twelve hours ago (the chest groping, not the critique of his appearance) that his dick would have stirred at least a little. But now? Nothing. Zip, zilch nada.

“Oh, that’s weird.” he breathed, and Lydia withdrew her hand.   
“Look, it’s almost three AM and I do actually have to show my face at home pretty much daily, or my parents actually notice that I’m not there.” 

Derek flopped back on the bed and groaned.

“I’ll be back at nine, okay?”  
“You’re going to bring Allison, aren’t you?” he asked, turning slightly so that he could bury his face in a pillow. Maybe if he suffocated himself the spell would think he was dead and reverse itself?  
“We’ve got to get you some complete outfits, Derek. I’ll need help.”  
“Ugh, fine! Just - don’t tell anyone else? Yet?”  
“I won’t tell Stiles.”  
“I didn’t say-”  
“If you think that nobody’s noticed the way your eyes track his ass across this loft then you’re seriously delusional. The only reason Stilinski hasn’t noticed is because he’s oblivious and more than a little bit in love-”  
“THANK YOU LYDIA.” Derek cut her off before she could reiterate Stiles’ complete lack of interest in anyone of the male persuasion.   
“Right - get all of that crap out of your system before I get back. But - come here for a second.”   
“What _now_?”  
“I don’t really want to be seen with you in public if the only things that fit you are sweatpants. Stand up, I’m going to check something.” 

Derek rolled to his feet and tried not to flinch as Lydia stepped up and traced her hands around his waist.

“I should have something - you’ll have to get used to them anyway...”  
“I’m not wearing a skirt.”  
“You might have to. Your butt is bigger than mine or Allison’s, unless you want to actually be out in public wearing sweatpants rolled over twice at the hip?”  
“Can I wear those stocking things under it?”  
“You mean leggings? Of course. Like I’d make you wear a skirt with nothing under it your first day out. Maybe once we’ve waxed those legs-”  
“Oh, hell no! No waxing!”  
“Well if you want to be mistaken for a yeti-”  
“I shave my face, I’m pretty sure I can shave my legs, Lydia.”  
“You keep telling yourself that, sweetie.” She patted the side of his face condescendingly. “I’ll be back just after nine with some things that might fit - my sister is about your size and she left half her wardrobe behind when she went to college.” Lydia threw over her shoulder as she left the apartment.  

Derek sank back down onto the bed and dropped his head into his hands. 

Well, the head faerie had said this was punishment for his attitude towards women. Maybe the waxing was part of the pain he was supposed to endure.


	3. Chapter 3

It was official, Lydia was evil. The bra shopping had been bad enough, but when they’d pushed him into a tiny room where an even tinier woman had tortured him with hot wax on his legs and armpits.

He’d almost cried. 

Though the line had been firmly drawn at getting a bikini wax; even when Lydia told him that she was paying for it - he’d never even considered trimming that area as a dude, he certainly wasn’t going to wax his new equipment before he’d even been in possession of it 24 hours. But the end result of the leg wax, he had to admit, wasn’t half bad; and the leggings went back on much easier over smooth legs than hairy ones.

They’d spent almost three hours at the mall by the time the girls decided they were done. His insistence that he’d only need two outfits had been blithely ignored, well, more refuted than ignored.

“You said that the faeries were leaving you female until you’d learned your lesson. If your history is anything to go by you’ll probably be a girl long enough to grow your hair out and go to prom with one of the guys.” Lydia pointed out. 

Derek had glared at her for that remark, but apparently his magical gender transition had lessened the impact of his eyebrows to the point that they ignored him entirely. 

They did get some strange looks when they called him Derek, though, and after the second shop assistant actually dropped something she’d been holding when Lydia called him by his name, she made an executive decision. 

“I’m just going to call you Dee, okay?” Lydia offered through the curtain while Derek wrestled with the third bra of the morning.

“Yeah, whatever. Just- can you give me a hand with this thing?” He tugged the curtain back and Lydia sighed, stepping forward and performing some kind of wizardry with the mechanism between his shoulder blades, suddenly he could breathe again and once she adjusted the straps his boobs actually looked kind of awesome.

Lydia had been wrong, though, and Derek felt somewhat vilified; the woman who had measured him had announced that he had ‘38D’ breasts. He had no idea what that actually meant in the grand scheme of things, but from this angle it translated to ‘nice rack’.

“You know what? Given the outfits we’ve got you can probably stick to sports bras. Mostly.”  
“Right.”  
“But you’re still getting this one. It’ll look great under that green dress.”  
“Dress? What dress? You told me we were getting jeans and t-shirts!”  
“What, so you can look like a female version of Stiles? No.”  
“My sisters never wear dresses!”  
“Actually, I do sometimes.”

Derek did not scream. He... yelped in a manly fashion. It was just his female larynx that made it sound like a scream.

“Cora!? What are you doing here? Which one of you called her?” he hissed at Allison and Lydia, and they each just shrugged.  
“She wanted to know where we were, so I told her.” Lydia explained, before tossing another bra at Derek.  
“And now I’m kind of thinking that I should have stayed at home. Derek, why are you a girl?”  
“How-”  
“You still smell like you and the attitude hasn’t changed one bit. But - Peter’s going to freak when he sees you.”

Derek sighed. “Why is Peter going to freak?”

Cora raised one eyebrow - Hale through and through - and looked pointedly at the mirror behind him.

“Have you looked at yourself? He’s going to think that Laura pulled the same necromancy voodoo shit he did and has come back to exact her revenge.”

Derek stared at his sister for a long moment before snapping his head to the side and looking at his face in the mirror to his left.

Truthfully, he’d been avoiding looking too closely at mirrors, every time he caught a glimpse of himself he’d almost done a double-take, because it was so jarring to see a different face than he was expecting.

Now that he looked, actually took some time to examine his face, he had to swallow quite hard to stop the burning behind his eyes turning into actual tears.

He’d never realised how similar he and his older sister were, until now. 

Cora stepped up behind him, sliding her arms around his bare stomach and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“It’s kind of freaking me out a bit.” she commented, and he nodded.   
“And you’re definitely getting that bra.” He turned his head to look at her and she grinned. “What? It makes your rack look amazing!”  
“Cora!”  
“Well, it does!”

~~

Derek stopped dead when he got out of the car at the loft. Lydia looked over at him and then surveyed the surrounding area, smirked, and caught one of his hands, dragging him towards the building.

“Lydia-”  
“They’re going to find out eventually, Dee.” She told him, pulling him past the powder blue Jeep parked next to the entrance.  
“Stop _calling_ me that!”  
“I like it, it suits you. Better than Derek when you’ve got legs like that.” Cora commented.  
“Hey! These legs are bigger than my old ones!”  
“Just the thighs, and that was to be expected with the size of your new booty.” Lydia told him, smacking at said booty and making Derek skip forward a couple of fast steps to avoid the contact.  
“Jesus christ _stop talking_ , please!” Derek was not whining, he was _not_. Though he couldn’t be blamed if he decided to start - Lydia had basically treated him like a human Barbie doll, he was dressed in black skinny jeans, a dark red t-shirt with a deep v-neck black sweater over it and for some reason the black boots she’d made him buy had three inch heels.  
“Just get in the elevator, will you?”  
“Why can’t we take the damn stairs?”  
“Because we’re all wearing high heels, you idiot.” Lydia told him, shepherding the whole group into the freight elevator and tugging the doors shut.

They were almost to the top floor when Cora looked over at her brother and smirked.

“Nervous, Dee?”  
“Shut up.”  
“Well your heart rate just went through the roof-”  
“Shut up, Cora.” He flashed red eyes at her and she shrugged, turning to open the door as the elevator groaned to a stop.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles was upside-down on the couch, tossing m&m’s in the air and attempting to catch them in his mouth when the elevator doors screeched open and the girls walked in, loaded down with shopping bags and accompanied by someone new. Stiles sat up a little and the m&m package slid sideways, spilling the rest of its’ contents onto the floor. He scrambled to scoop them up as they scattered on the floor and found himself on his knees in front of the new girl.

Well, to be more accurate he was on his knees in front of the whole group, but Lydia had shoved the new girl in the back and she’d sort of stumbled forwards and come to a stop with her black boots inches from his scrambling fingers.

“Hi!” He didn’t exactly shout, but his voice was definitely louder than it should have been given the distance between them.  
“Hi.” The girl looked wary, and somewhat familiar. She tried to step back but Cora had one hand on her shoulder and even though they glared at each other for a few seconds Cora didn’t let her move.

Stiles scooped as many of the pieces of candy as he could manage into a small pile and then dumped it onto the coffee table before getting to his feet and trying to get a proper look at the new girl.

“Uh, I’m Stiles. That’s Scott and I’m gonna guess that you already know the rest because they’ve taken you shopping.”  
“Stiles-”  
“It was a pretty good trip, in spite of Dee’s attitude.” Lydia cut in, making Dee shoot her a look almost as intense as the one she’d directed at Cora.  
“Dee?” Stiles asked.  
“Lydia, are you really going to -” Dee was, again, cut off by the strawberry blonde.  
“Yes. Dee. We are.”

Scott looked up narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. Allison skipped past the other girls and caught his elbow as he opened his mouth, turning him around even as he craned his neck to get another look at Dee.

“So, Dee, are you from around here?”

She looked over at Lydia for guidance and was treated to a raised eyebrow. She sighed, rolled her eyes and turned back to Stiles.

“You could say that. What are you and Scott doing here?”  
“Oh, we’re waiting on Derek to get back.”  
“Right.”

Stiles stood in front of her for a few seconds, and was about to ask another question when Scott shouted.

“DEREK?”  
“Where?!” Stiles ducked down to pick up the last of the candy on the floor (some of which had rolled under the sofa) with one eye on the entrance to the loft.

Scott stormed across the open space and right up to Dee, eyes flashing.

“What the hell, dude?” he demanded, and Stiles got to his feet, grabbing Scott by the shoulders and trying to pull him backwards.  
“Scott! Hey, I’m sorry about him, Dee-”  
“Dude! That’s Derek!”  
“What?” Stiles dropped his hands and leaned to the side, staring hard at Dee. “What are you talking about?”

Dee sighed and tossed her head in a move that was classic Derek Hale. Stiles’ eyes widened.

“There were faeries. I apparently insulted them and got turned into a girl for a while.”

Stiles gaped.

“Oh my god - you’ve got a magical faerie vagina.” Scott said, with a completely straight face.

Stiles still didn’t say anything, just stared at Dee- Derek - with his mouth hanging open slightly.

“Yes, Scott, that’s exactly what happened.” Derek told him, stepping around a still mute-and-immobile Stiles to slump down on the sofa, tugging his boots off and throwing them at his sister while she grinned at him, enjoying his discomfiture.

Stiles shook his head and shut his eyes tight for a few seconds, before scrubbing a hand over his face and opening them, looking straight at Derek.

“Derek.”  
“What, Stiles?”  
“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU A GIRL?”  
"Because I felt wrong living as a man and decided that an overnight transition would be the easiest way to remedy that." Derek deadpanned.  
" _What_?" Stiles hissed and Derek, once again, sighed.  
"You know that scent that you and Lydia told me not to follow?"  
"The one that- oh my god you pissed off the faeries."   
"That's what I've been saying, Stiles."  
"And they turned you into a girl."  
"Yes."

Stiles sat down on the couch next to Derek and leaned in, eyes narrowed. Derek leaned back in tandem and a few seconds later Stiles was hovering over him as Derek pressed himself into the arm of the couch in an effort to escape Stiles' scrutiny.

"How long are you like this?" Stiles asked, eventually, sitting back a little but not taking his eyes off Derek.  
"Until I learn my lesson." Derek mumbled, and Stiles barked out a laugh.  
"So, forever, then."  
"Hey! I'm not-"  
"Yes, you really are."

Derek glowered, mutinous.

"Shut up, Stiles."

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Has Peter seen you yet?” Stiles demanded half an hour later, when he was standing in the kitchen assembling sandwiches for lunch.   
“Nope!” Cora called out from the other side of the loft, and Derek glared at his sister before turning his attention back to Stiles, handing him the package of sliced cheese.  
“No, I haven’t. He’s supposed to be coming over here this afternoon, though.”  
“He’s going to freak out.” Cora sing-songed and Derek winced.  
“Why is he going to freak out?” Stiles wanted to know.  
“Because I look so much like Laura.” Derek muttered, folding slices of turkey onto the sandwiches and avoiding looking at anyone.  
“I knew you looked familiar!” Stiles blurted, then immediately turned scarlet and became very interested in making sure that the sandwiches were put together square.  
“What?” Derek asked, voice low. As far as he knew, Stiles had never met his other sister.  
“Just, uh, well you look like Cora but kind of not?”  
“Stiles.”  
Stiles refused to meet Derek’s gaze, and Derek remembered his first arrest at the hands of the Sheriff, and felt himself blushing as well.   
“Sorry.” Stiles muttered a few seconds later, and left the kitchen with a full plate, set it down on the table in front of the others and kept on walking. He went straight to the door and making for the stairwell, not bothering to wait for the elevator to come back up.

Cora spun around to look at Derek, confused, and Scott joined her. Though Scott was a little more accusing and less sympathetic. 

“What was that about?” Cora asked.  
“Just... reminiscing.” Derek told her, before following Stiles’ path across the loft in his socked feet and making for the stairwell. He was halfway through the door when Scott spoke up.  
“Hey, Derek, just leave him alone.”  
“What? Why? I’m not allowed to apologise?”  
Scott’s eyes widened and before he could formulate a response Derek slipped out the door and took the stairs three at a time in complete silence.

He found Stiles at the bottom landing, sitting with his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs and staring at his own feet. Derek deliberately scuffed a foot along the floor, alerting the younger boy to his presence, and settled next to him, mirroring Stiles’ posture.

“Dude. Not very ladylike.”  
 Derek just grunted. 

“Neither was that.” Stiles pointed out.  
“Do you really think I’m going to be ladylike just because I’ve got boobs?”  
“Good point.”  
“Look, uh, I’m -”  
“I’m sorry about digging Laura up, you know that, right?”  
“Uh-”  
“But we thought you’d killed her, man, and you didn’t do much to change that opinion. I mean, you kept us totally in the dark about what was going on!”  
“I know, Stiles, I’m sorry for bringing it up.”  
“Well, still. Sorry.”  
“Thanks.”

They sat there for a few seconds and Derek shifted, twisting and sliding back so that he was sitting against the wall, one leg stretched out along the step. 

“So, how are you coping with the new bod?”  
“It’s not as strong as my old one.”  
“Even with the werewolf thing going on?”  
“Yeah; I can’t lift as much weight as I could, but I feel more flexible, I guess.”  
“Really?” Stiles raised an eyebrow at that, and Derek felt himself blushing.  
“Yeah, Lydia explained it all, something about muscle mass and the whole new skeletal structure that came with the girl thing. I kind of tuned out, she was making me try on bras at the time.”  
“Lydia-”  
“Yes she made me try on bras and if I have to wear them for long I might just kill someone.”  
“Huh.”  
“Hey, unless you’ve worn one you don’t get to make assumptions. They’re damn uncomfortable unless they fit right.”  
“Okay, noted. If I’m ever the one to piss the faeries off I’ll make sure to take you when I go bra shopping.”

Derek dropped his head backwards until it thudded against the wall.  
“The fact that we’re seriously having this conversation really speaks volumes about how insane our lives are.”  
“You’re the one with a magical faerie vagina.”  
“Scott already said that.”  
“What?!” Stiles was incensed, and turned to face Derek properly. “When? How the hell does he even know that reference? He doesn’t watch True Blood, he says that the wolves in the show are stupid!”  
“Well he said it right around the time you were trying to process that flirting with me might get you gutted.”  
“You mean after you guys let me think you were a hot new friend of Lydia’s.”  
“You think I’m hot?”   
“Well... yeah. You do look like your sisters, though, so it’s a bit weird to think of you as the regulation hottie that you are.”  
Derek’s eyes widened at that.  
“Oh, come on, you have to know that you’re still hot as a chick.”  
“Still?”  
“Don’t even. Look, I’m gonna get back up there before Scott and your sister eat all the sandwiches. You coming?”  
“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles got to his feet and held out a hand, which Derek took without thinking. Stiles pulled him up and apparently Derek wasn’t the only one getting used to the new body, because Stiles put a little more effort into tugging Derek upright than he really needed to, and a second later they were plastered together, Derek’s nose bumping into Stiles’ chin as their chests connected.  
Stiles drew a sharp breath in and his other hand shot out to catch Derek at his waist automatically, while he pulled his head back to look down at him.  
“Huh, you’re shorter than me. Finally.”  
“Yeah.” Derek looked up at Stiles and felt his mouth go dry. They stayed there for a few seconds until Stiles shook himself a little and stepped back. Derek looked away from him and went to mount the stairs when he caught a scent that he often associated with Stiles, just never in circumstances like this, before.   
Arousal, thick and potent, was exuding from the teenager as he stood behind Derek, and Derek whipped his head around to look at him. Stiles blushed a little before rolling his eyes.  
“Like I said, man, you know you’re hot.” He stepped past Derek and took the stairs two at a time while Derek stood there for a moment, processing.

So he might have a chance, finally. If Stiles was attracted to him like this, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to maybe take the new body for a test-drive. Who could blame him, really? Given the chance, Derek was certain that pretty much every single other member of the pack would take full advantage of a magical gender-reassignment.

He followed Stiles up the stairs, trying not to be too obvious as his head weaved about, chasing tendrils of the hot-butter-and-cinnamon scent of a turned-on Stilinski.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finds out.

Peter arrived after everyone else had left, and Derek was very grateful for that, because the physical altercation that occurred was not pretty and if there’d been any humans in the loft then there would likely have been casualties.

Peter hadn’t even hesitated, he’d tugged the doors of the freight elevator apart, spotted Derek and gone for his throat. It was only by virtue of the fact that Derek and Cora had been sparring that he was even ready for the attack and able to fend his uncle off, and it took a good few minutes of snapping and snarling and Derek using his Alpha eyes to their fullest power before they could get Peter pinned down and calm enough to tell him that no, Laura had not come back from the dead.

“What the _hell_ happened, then?” he spat, looking from one to the other accusingly.  
“Derek pissed off a bunch of faeries is what happened, so now he’s a girl.”

Peter went limp under their hands and began to laugh, shaking with the force of it.

“Oh my god, this is priceless! And the timing! Oh this could not get any better!”

Derek sighed and pulled his hands away from Peter as he turned partway onto his side, knees drawing up while he kept laughing.

“Are you sure?” Cora asked, side-eyeing her brother even as he ground his teeth together.  
“Cora. Don’t.” He flashed his red eyes at her in warning and she relented, stepping away from Peter and settling on the sofa to watch what happened.

“What the hell do you mean about the timing, Peter?” Derek demanded.

“The summit- oh my god you have no idea. Well, the summons will be here in a few days anyway, so you’ll find out soon enough.”  
“Summons? What are you talking about?” Derek’s fingers curled into fists at his side, claws lengthening as he tried to calm himself down.

“The Wolf Moon, as the Alpha of the Hale pack you’ll be required to attend. It’s a gathering of all the Alphas in this part of the country, northern California, Oregon, Washington, Nevada and even a few packs from Idaho will be represented. It’s pretty much a pissing contest. You know, Deucalion went to the last one as the representative for this territory while he was still assembling his pack of Alphas. He would have told them about the fire and that Laura was in charge. Probably even made excuses for her not being here.”

He paused, thoughtful, and Derek stepped away fro him and sat down on the couch, burying his head in his hands.

“When is this... thing?”

“Full moon after next, in about six weeks. So unless you’re planning on being male again by then you’re going to have to pretend to be your sister. Though that could probably work in your favour given the legendary status of the female Hale Alphas. Your mother was the first wolf since the fifties who could attain a full shift, in this part of the world, anyway.” 

Derek’s claws were at their full extension now and it was all he could do not to grip Peter by the throat and pin him to the nearest hard surface. He breathed out through his nose, heavily, and managed to calm down enough to actually speak, albeit through gritted teeth.

“So, I’m obligated to go.”  
“Given that you’re the Alpha of the Beacon Hills territory, yes. And you’ll have to take Scott with you. Probably posing as your mate. Unless you had someone else in mind for that task?” his eyes flashed, glinting blue for a moment and Derek recoiled.

“Who else would I want coming with me to a gathering of Alpha werewolves? Especially when I’m posing as Laura!?”  
“Maybe someone who knew her? Or you could send me as a representative, though that might be seen as a weakness...”  
“You are not leaving the city limits, let alone showing your face at a gathering of Alphas. You’d probably try and kill someone and end up on a spit over the fire with an apple in your mouth.”

Peter scowled but retreated, slumping down on the sofa and glaring at his niece and nephew.

“Not that we’d be too upset about that...” Cora mused, and one corner of Derek’s mouth ticked up at that. He set his lips in a firm line once more, though, when he turned his attention back to Peter.

“So I’ll have to go to this Wolf Moon thing with a mate? Why?”  
“Because if you show up alone you’ll probably find yourself in a marriage arranged by the Council of Elders, and if they think you’re female they’ll pair you up with a boy. So unless you want an arranged marriage and a husband who will probably tear you in half when you get yourself back to your own manly self, you should take a mate with you.”

Derek scowled and Peter laughed, again.

“Shut up.”  
“What? It’s funny, your eyebrows are nowhere near as intimidating when they’re so neatly groomed.”


	7. Chapter 7

“You need a what?” Scott demanded, scandalized.

Of course, this wasn’t going to be easy.

“I need to take a guy with me to this summit thing or I’ll get put into an arranged marriage. Apparently if you’re over 25 and show up without a partner it’s assumed that you’re open to that kind of thing.”  
“So you want me to pretend to be your... husband?”   
“No! Boyfriend, maybe. At the very least someone who helps me keep the Beacon Hills territory from falling into anarchy.”  
“...but Beacon Hills _is_ in anarchy, most of the time.” Stiles put in from across the room.

“Shut up, Stiles.”  
“Whoa, that synchronicity is freaky.”  
“You’re not being helpful.” Derek could feel what he thought must be a tension headache building behind his eyes, and every time he got near Stiles his blood pressure seemed to spike, and only about 60% of it was because of that permanent semi-aroused smell that seemed to surround the teenager. 

Of course, when he’d called Scott to come over because he needed to ask him something, Stiles had shown up with him as if attached by a three-foot tether. So he’d been forced to ask the favor with Stiles as a witness and now Stiles was laughing, and making his opinions known. 

Loudly.

The glaring was having no effect whatsoever, Derek was beginning to think that his uncle’s assessment of his new, finer eyebrows may have been correct.

“So will you come with me or not?”  
“Oh, don’t act like it’s that simple. We’d have to live together for the next month for it to be believable. Why don’t you ask someone you actually like? Like Isaac?”  
“Because he’s my beta.”  
“So?”  
“So, they’d know that we were faking it.”  
“What? How?”  
“He smells like my beta. Not my boyfriend. We don’t spend enough time together, for a start-”  
“Hang on-”  
“Dude, are you asking Scott to live with you so your wolfy companions won’t realise you’re faking it?” Stiles put in, getting to his feet and coming over to where they were standing on either side of the table, planting his hands and looking from one to the other, eyebrows almost at his hairline.

“I’m saying it might be necessary, yes.”  
“I am not moving into this place for a month and a half.” Scott said, backing away, looking more uncomfortable by the moment.  
“Well I don’t see anyone else volunteering.”  
“What about _Stiles_?” Scott suggested.  
“What _about_ Stiles?” Derek asked.  
“Wait, _what_ about Stiles? Stiles is not on board with anything to do with this idea. No. No, bad Alphas. Where’s that damn newspaper when I need it?”  
“Newspaper? What?” Scott asked.  
“I’m going to hit both of you on the noses with a rolled-up newspaper until you realise what a spectacularly idiotic idea it would be to have me go with you to the California Summit of Alpha Werewolves.”  
“That’s not what it’s called, Stiles.” 

All three of them jumped - whipping around to find Peter lounging in the doorway of the loft. 

“Peter.”  
“Yes, nephew - sorry! - niece of mine?”  
“Nephew. What are you doing here, Peter?”  
“I heard shouting. Thought I could help."  
“Well, you can’t. So get out.”  
“Hey - why can’t Peter go with you? Act like a chaperone or something?” Stiles wanted to know.  
“Gee, let me think about how I got to be enough of an Alpha to turn Scott in the first place and how well that might go down at a gathering of other Alpha werewolves?”  
“Urgh, fine, no need to be so heavy with the sarcasm.” Stiles pulled a face.  
“Says Princess Sarcasm.” Derek muttered.  
“I’m the Queen and you know it.” Stiles shot back, and Peter barked out a laugh.  
“You two _should_ go together, you already bicker like a couple.” Scott commented.

Derek felt something at the bottom of his stomach clench at that prospect. He had enough trouble controlling himself around Stiles when he was male, and _knew_ he had no chance with the guy. But if they did this it would involve _scenting_ and _touching_ and... Derek was conflicted.

Stiles looked over at Derek, then at Scott and his shoulders slumped when he was confronted with the epic puppy-eyes that Scott was directing at him.

“How would we actually do this, if I agreed to it?” Stiles sighed. “Because Dad’s been kind of on my case about not spending enough time with him-”  
“Hey, you know, Derek could actually hang out with your Dad, now.” Scott pointed out.  
“What?”   
“Well, he’s not an ex-murder suspect now, or at least, doesn’t look like one, anymore. So if you need to be all...”  
“Up in each others’ business.” Peter put in, earning a glare from both Derek and Stiles.  
“Touchy-feely with each other,” Scott said, rolling his eyes, “Then you can introduce Derek as your girlfriend... maybe someone you met online who happens to be in town for school or something?”  
“You think he’d buy that?”  
“Dude, don’t tell me that you don’t have some friends online who might match the description tall, dark-haired, kinda husky, with bunny teeth.”  
“Bunny teeth? Wait, _husky_?” Derek turned to look at Scott.  
“Well you aren’t exactly a delicate little flower, Derek.” Peter commented.  
“Hey, 210 pounds of mass can’t just vanish, I’m the same weight I was before this spell thing happened, what did you think, I’d suddenly be the same size as Lydia? Things just got... rearranged. And don’t act like you aren’t aware of how muscle and fat are distributed differently for girls. You all took sex ed and biology... I hope?”  
“Yeah, uh, right. But come on, Stiles, like your Dad wouldn’t buy it. And you’ve got the guest room and everything...”  
“You seriously think that my father, the Sheriff, would let a strange woman stay in our house just because I claim to know her from WoW?”  
“I think that you managed to talk your way out of criminal charges for stealing that van to keep Jackson from killing people, and that your Dad would be relieved that you’ve got something _normal_ going on after all the supernatural crap that’s been happening lately.”  
“It’s kind of scary that a random chick I met online showing up would be considered ‘normal’ compared to what we’ve had going on.”

Derek looked from Scott to Stiles, then buried his face in his hands.

“You actually want to start lying to your father, again, after bitching me out _how many times_ that you hated doing it with the whole werewolves thing?”  
“So, what, I should tell him that faeries are a thing, too? And that you’re a girl because you pissed them off and now we have to be werewolf-married until, what, February? Because otherwise you’ll get put into an arranged marriage and then killed when your new husband finds out you’re actually a dude?”

Derek lifted his head and leveled an unimpressed look at Stiles, while Peter snorted.

“Aptly put, Stiles.” Peter commented, and Stiles groaned.  
“Oh, fine, whatever, but you’re coming with me to tell him. And just so you know, he’s not going to be happy about this. At all.”


	8. Chapter 8

“So, we’re going to have a houseguest for Christmas?”

Stiles stared at his father, open-mouthed. He and Derek were sitting at the kitchen table, and had just spent the last half hour explaining about the faeries and why Derek was now female and would probably need to hang at the Stilinski residence until the Wolf Moon gathering.

“ _That’s_ what you took from that?” Stiles demanded.

“Well, that’s about all the information I need, right? Either you two live together or Derek ends up dead?”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“Call me John, Derek. And are we still calling you Derek? Seems... odd.”

“We’re calling him Dee.” Stiles put in, almost absently. “Dad, are you serious - you’re okay with Derek living here, with us, for almost two months?”

“As long as he sleeps in the guest room. Why would I have a problem with it?”

“YOU ARRESTED HIM FOR MURDER!”

“Yes, and since then I’ve found that it was Peter who killed his sister, and that Derek then killed his uncle. But since Peter’s not dead anymore I can’t really charge Derek with _that_ murder, can I?”

Stiles continued to gape at his father while Derek tried to hide his smile behind a glass of water.

“Didn’t think so. Where have you actually been living, anyway, Hale?”  
“Uh-”

“Because I know you’re not out in that condemned house anymore, the county repossessed it. But funnily enough your name isn’t on any lease I could find in the records...”

“I’m living in a loft, in one of the buildings my family owns. Sir. John.”

“Oh, the one out in the industrial district? That explains why your Jeep was spotted out there so much, recently, son.” 

Stiles had the good grace to actually squirm a little at that.

“Yes, the uh, the one at the end of Mason Drive.”

“Thought so. So, when would you be moving in and what, exactly, would you and my son have to do to ensure that this charade can be pulled off?”

“You’re serious. You’re actually seriously just going to accept this and not-” Stiles had one hand threaded through his hair and was waving the other around in exasperation.

“Not what, Stiles?”

“Freaking out! Derek and I have to pretend to be, like, engaged or some shit and you’re just like ‘oh, I arrested you once but it’s fine come and live in my house for as long as you need to!’”

“Well, considering that after I was kidnapped and held in a root cellar for three days I found out that it was mostly because of Derek that you were able to actually find and help us get out of there, I was considering asking after his living arrangements, anyway.”

“What?”

“You were?” Derek looked as shocked as Stiles felt.

“Well, once Melissa explained everything I thought the least I could do was offer you somewhere stable to live. I know that Lahey’s living with his aunt, but I didn’t actually know where you’d set yourself up. Speaking of - what about your uncle?”

“Peter’s got an apartment downtown.” Stiles told his father, dismissive. He was determined to stay on topic, for once. “You were going to offer Derek the guest room? Without talking to me?”

“I figured I’d talk to you when I’d had a chance to run the offer by Derek, I know how you are with stuff like this, you would have just got yourself worked up and probably done something stupid like line the house with mountain ash to keep him out.”

“How do you-”  
“I spent a solid weekend drinking and talking tactics with Chris Argent.”

Stiles, mouth hanging open, slumped in his chair.

“I don’t even know what is going on in my own life anymore...” he muttered. John smirked and turned his attention entirely to Derek.

“So, I see that the girls have got you outfitted. Why the hell did they put you in heels?”

“Because he let Lydia take him shopping.” Stiles muttered from where he now had his head pressed against the tabletop.

“Not a smart move.”

“Yeah, I’m not really planning on wearing a lot of what she bought. Some of my old clothes still fit, mostly, I only really needed new jeans because my legs are a different shape, now.”

“Fair enough. Beer?”

“Uh - sure.” 

Stiles head snapped up at that.

“What? You- what the hell is going on?”

“I’m offering Derek a beer because he’s an adult and he’s of age and I know that if I was the one who this had happened to I’d be drinking something a lot stronger than Heineken.”

Stiles sat at the kitchen table and watched in a sort of horrified fascination as his father and Derek Hale discussed what he did and didn’t have as far as personal effects went and how long it would take him to vacate his loft in favour of the guest room that shared a bathroom with Stiles’ bedroom. While drinking the beer that Stiles had been forbidden from so much as shifting out of place within the fridge. 

“My life is insane.” he muttered.

“You’re the one who made friends with werewolves.” his father pointed out.

Derek just smiled around the neck of his beer bottle and took the pen offered by the Sheriff so that he could make a list of what he was going to bring over that evening.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domesticity. Because of reasons.

“No.”

Derek looked over at Stiles with one eyebrow raised, and the younger man just crossed his arms and set his jaw, defiant and determined.

“Derek - no.” he repeated, and Derek let the other eyebrow join the first halfway up his forehead, blinking as if to ask what the fuck Stiles thought he was going to do about it.

They were in their shared bathroom and Derek was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet with one leg propped up on the edge of the tub and a bottle of moisturising lotion in one hand, poised to run a line of it down his calf.

“Dude, come on, seriously?” Stiles demanded, voice cracking. “Just because you’ve got the…” he motioned in Derek’s general direction, averting his eyes from the tank top and black boxers he was wearing (incidentally items of clothing he’d owned for _years_ that happened to still fit him, even if the tank top was a little tighter in the chest than he was used to) “…equipment, doesn’t mean you have to do all the girly shit!”

Derek sighed.

“If I don’t do this then I’ll get ingrown hairs from the waxing. Lydia-” 

Stiles sighed, rolling his eyes and cutting Derek off with a wave of his hand. 

“Fine, ugh, whatever. Just - lock the door or something next time?” he asked, still sounding strangled. “It’s just weird to come in here and find a half naked girl!” 

Derek shrugged one shoulder and turned his attention back to his legs - he liked the lotion that he’d been given, it didn’t smell too much and felt good on his skin. He noticed, absently, that Stiles wasn’t vacating the room as he smoothed his hands up and down the pale skin, digging his thumbs into the backs of his calves a little before switching feet and repeating the action on the other leg.

“So, what are we having for dinner, tonight?” he asked, putting the bottle of lotion back into the red wicker basket that had appeared the second day he’d been living with the Stilinski’s, and held all the things that Cora, Allison and Lydia had insisted that he absolutely needed. So far only a couple of things had been even touched, including the body lotion and facial moisturiser, but the entire collection of makeup was still sealed in its’ packaging. 

There were other _supplies_ in the depths of the basket that he didn’t even want to think about. He’d only been female for a couple of days, but so far all the research that everyone had managed to dig up suggested that he’d remain female for at least a few weeks, possibly longer. There were stories out there of people who’d fucked with the faeries and never gotten back to their original selves. The girls had insisted that he have certain  _things_ laid on just in case he was 'caught out', and Derek was resolutely  _not thinking about that._

  
Derek was determined not to become one of _those_ people, so he was doing his best to just go with the girl thing and not fight against it too hard. Though he had managed to sneak away and buy himself some flat-soled black boots that came halfway up his calves, very similar in style to what he’d worn as a man and almost as comfortable.

Stiles’ eyes were still trained on Derek’s legs, so the Alpha snapped his fingers in front of the younger mans’ face until he focused, lifting his gaze to meet Derek’s eyes. 

“Uh - well, it’s Monday, so that means we’ll have practically nothing in the refrigerator. So - frozen dinners, probably.” he said, shrugging.

Derek frowned and Stiles’ eyes widened, in either fear or anticipation, Derek wasn’t sure. 

“I should offer to get some groceries if I’m going to be living here.” he muttered, almost to himself, then pushed past Stiles and back into his own room, tugging the top drawer of the dresser open and stripping out of the tank top, leaving the black sports bra and boxers on for the moment, fishing for a Henley among all the other things that the girls had bought him.  

He’d also gone clothes shopping while he was getting his better boots, and noticed that a girl in the mens’ department didn’t attract any attention at all, whereas a guy in the ladies’ section was often glared at or given the side-eye (as the holder of the credit cards he was often left loitering while Cora tried things on).  

He’d discovered that no matter what sizes he tried on, mens’ jeans just didn’t fit his ‘booty’ any more, so he was stuck with the styles that Lydia and Allison had picked for him. But shirts still worked, mostly, so long as they were stretchy material. A lot of his own clothes still fit as well, but they were often too loose around the shoulders and biceps, so he’d gotten some smaller sizes and found that with the black skinny jeans and his leather jacket - which he refused to give up no matter who said _what_ \- he finally felt like himself again. 

Even with the sports bra and black cotton panties under it all. 

He turned to find Stiles loitering in the doorway of this room, now, and gave him a pointed look. 

“Are you going to keep watching me change, or do I get a little privacy so I can get my panties on?” he asked, and Stiles flailed a little, turning scarlet and stalking away without giving him an answer, tugging the door closed after himself with a little too much force. 

Once he had his jeans and boots on, Derek went across the hall and tapped on Stiles’ closed door, waiting for him to call out before poking his head in. 

“Come on, if you come with me to the store I’ll even get you some of that stupid cereal with the marshmallow pieces in it.” Derek offered, and Stiles was away from his computer moments later, grabbing his own car keys and wallet, following Derek out to the cars. 

“We’re not taking the Jeep.” Derek told him, bypassing it for the Cruiser and unlocking it with the fob. “For a start, it’s a death trap and for a second all my canvas bags are in this car.”  

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Roscoe is not a death trap.” he objected, and Derek just raised an eyebrow as the younger man climbed into the passenger seat, still unhappy. 

“Yeah, well, I was blocking _Roscoe_ in, anyway.” he pointed out and took them to the grocery store without another word, turning the stereo up and ignoring Stiles’ look of incredulity when the Beastie Boys started to play. 

They made it halfway through the grocery store before someone recognised Stiles and approached them, openly appraising Derek while he scanned the shelves for what he wanted to make the chicken stir-fry he was planning and Stiles pushed the cart. He’d been banned from taking his hands off the bar after his third attempt at putting something stupid (“ _Dragonfruit,_ Dee! Come on, it just sounds _cool!”)_ and promised Lucky Charms if he’d stop complaining about how long Derek was taking to pick things out before putting them in the cart. 

“Hey, Stilinski.” the other guy was about Stiles’ age and didn’t smell familiar, so Derek ignored him and kept looking for the right kind of fish sauce, having been assured that the Stilinski’s did, in fact, have a wok. 

“Hey, Greenberg.” Stiles acknowledged the other guy, and Derek found the bottle of sauce,  grinning and putting it into the cart, giving it a tug to remind Stiles that he was supposed to be driving it, not looking at the Cup o’ Noodles on the other side of the aisle.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Greenberg asked, nodding at Derek, and it was all Derek could do not to roll his eyes and sigh as Stiles scrambled for an explanation.

“Oh, uh, yeah. This is my-”

Derek stuck his hand out over the cart to shake the other guys’ hand.

“I’m Dee.” he said, and left it at that, turning his attention to the different tofu options and wondering if the Sheriff would even notice that half the chicken was actually soy.

“Yeah. She’s, uh…”

Greenberg stepped up to Stiles as Derek kept moving down the aisle, still listening but Greenberg didn’t know that he could hear them at the distance he’d put between them.

“She’s _hot_ is what, Stilinski. You tapping that?” Greenberg asked in a whisper, and Derek was pretty certain that even if he was human he’d still have heard it.

Derek kept his face averted, pretending to read the back of the package he’d plucked from the shelf, but interested to hear Stiles’ answer.

Stiles’ response, apparently, was to choke, splutter and sound like he was dying for a moment before managing to choke out “No! No, Dee is a friend of mine who’s in town for a while. She’s crashing with me and Dad.” 

"Dude, you  _so_ should be tapping that. Your Dad works nights, right?"

Derek _did_ roll his eyes at that, walking back towards the cart and dropping the package of tofu on top of the bag of carrots and smiling at Stiles.

“Come on, Stiles.” he said, keeping his voice level and not snapping, just tugging on the edge of the cart. “We’ve got a lot more shopping to do. Nice to meet you.” he nodded at Greenberg and the guy gave him a once over, making Derek feel… not exactly _violated_ , but still uncomfortable. He pulled on the cart again and Stiles almost tripped over his own feet to keep up, biting his lip and blushing as they rounded the corner and entered the next aisle. 

They shopped in silence until they reached the personal hygiene aisle at which point, Stiles seemed to explode. 

“I’m _so_ sorry, man, he just - that was _completely_ inappropriate and it’s _Greenberg-_ ”

“It’s fine, Stiles.” Derek told him, voice low and even. It had been kind of nice, actually, shopping without Stiles offering commentary and criticism on every item he put into the cart, or trying to add things like Pop Tarts and packages of frosting to their selection.

“No, it’s _really not_ , Dee, because now he’s going to do something stupid like _ask for your number-”_

“So don’t give it to him. Tell him that I don’t have a cell phone or something.”

Stiles scoffed at that, rolling his eyes.

“Seriously, dude? We’re telling people that we met _on the internet_ and you expect anyone to believe you don’t have a cell phone?”

Derek shrugged.

“So tell him you don’t want to give him my number. Or that I don’t want it given out. Not hard.” he shrugged again and picked a can of unscented antiperspirant off the shelf, his usual brand but the womens’ version, and dropped it into the cart.

Stiles groaned. 

“Ugh, you are _impossible._ ” he said, dragging the last word out to about eleven syllables, which Derek was impressed with in spite of himself. 

“Yeah, well, I’m making you dinner tonight and unless you want me to only give you tofu and veggies in your serving of stir-fry, you need to pull yourself together.” he instructed, and Stiles sobered up a bit. 

“Tofu? Is that what this is?” he asked, plucking a package of Greek Yoghurt out of the cart. 

Derek sighed. “No, Stiles, that’s yoghurt, see, says so right here on the side. This is the tofu and you’re probably going to like it.” he said. “And your Dad probably won’t even notice it if you don’t _tell_ him that I’ve put it in there.” 

Stiles sighed, defeated, as they entered the frozen foods section. 

“Fine. But we’re also getting ice cream because I deserve some. Seriously, we’ve been here like an _hour-”_  

"Thirty five minutes, and we still haven’t been to the butchers’ counter, yet.” Derek pointed out, making Stiles groan again. 

“Can’t we just get those?” he asked, pointing to the Weight Watchers’ frozen meals and Derek blanched. 

“Ugh. No, they taste like chemicals and they’re nowhere near as healthy as the packaging would lead you to believe.” he muttered, but he did grab two pints of Ben & Jerry’s, deciding that the fudge swirl actually looked appealing for a change. 

It took another half hour to get out of the grocery store, and Stiles complained that Derek made him help bag all the things, and when they got home he was appalled that the box of Lucky Charms Derek had picked up was only half the size he usually got. 

“I’ll have finished these in like two days!” He objected, waving the box around, and Derek shrugged. 

“So you’ll have oatmeal instead. Get over it.” he said, putting meat and ice cream into the freezer, setting aside the chicken and tofu for dinner that evening, as well as the veggies and the package of hokkien noodles, the fish sauce and a few other essentials he’d picked up.

-=-=-=-=-

 “Stiles, that’s not a wok.” he said, a couple of hours later, around five PM, when the Sheriff was due to finish his shift at six and Derek was looking to start chopping things up for dinner. He’d been appalled enough that the Stilinski’s kept their knives in a _drawer,_ but the stainless steel frying pan that Stiles brandished like a weapon was the last straw.

He sighed, and Stiles looked confused. 

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s a frying pan - a wok is rounded, seriously, you spend so much time online, you never learned how to _cook?”_

“It was never an issue! Dad - Dad can cook okay, and I usually just to easy stuff, like spaghetti, or pancakes, or we order in…”

Derek wasn’t sure why Stiles stopped talking, but he basked in the silence for a moment before he sighed again. 

“I’m going to teach you how to cook so that when I’m gone you and your father don’t die of malnutrition.” he said, and Stiles almost lit up at that.

“And we’re investing in a decent set of knives. You’re going to learn how to handle them, too, even if you do lose a couple of fingertips.”

Dinner went relatively smoothly, Derek letting Stiles chop up carrots, bell peppers and celery while he teased the bean shoots apart and peeled the garlic with his claws, not even asking after a garlic press, just crushing it in his palm and dropping it into the hot pan with some oil. Thankfully there were no allergies in the Stilinski house, so he was able to add some cashews to the mix as well.

He cut the chicken and tofu up with one of the blunt, dented knives and considered possibly using his claws for that, too, as they were not only shaper but possibly better suited to this work. Eventually he’d managed to put together the chicken and vegetable stir fry, with some oyster sauce and hokkien noodles to serve. He was just plating their dinner up when the Sheriff arrived home, bypassing the kitchen for his office and returning a few moments later without his holster, sniffing at the air.

“Who made dinner?” he asked, watching Derek as he scooped sauce over the plates, using a dessert spoon as the only serving equipment in the house looked like it was designed for use on a grill or for salads.  

“We both did.” Derek told him, making the older man smile. 

“Derek thinks we need better stuff for the kitchen.” Stiles put in from where he was wrist deep in soapy water, cleaning the knives and chopping boards.

Derek blushed, hating that his body did that so readily now, but unable to stop or control it.

“We do?” John asked, and Derek nodded, almost shy. 

“Your knives - leave a lot to be desired.” he said. “And you’ve only got two pans.” he added, putting the now-empty saucepan back down on the extinguished burner of the stove. “You’ve got a good stove and oven, and plenty of space. You just - need better things in it. If you wanted, I could get some things, teach Stiles?” he offered, picking up a bowl and handing it to John with a fork - there were no chopsticks to be found, so forks it was. 

John nodded, looking at the bowl a little warily, before stabbing a piece of tofu and having a taste. 

By the end of dinner, Derek had the blessings of both Stilinski men when it came to who was to dictate what happened in the kitchen - and he hadn’t even pulled any fancy recipes out. Who knew what they’d offer him when he made a pork roast.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Oh, come on, this is complete bullshit. You have to be making it up, Peter!” Derek shouted, and Peter just smirked.

Of course, he’d never _admit_ that he was just fucking with Derek, not until the last second, but a sharp look from the Sheriff had the elder wolf somewhat contrite and rolling his eyes in an admission of guilt.

  
“Oh, okay, fine. It’s not _that_ uncommon for a female Alpha to have a human partner. But it _is_ odd for him not to be bitten, or to be awaiting the Bite.” he added, and that made both Stilinski’s frown.

It was Sunday evening and Peter had shown up, much to the Sheriff’s chagrin (there had been mutterings about declaring Peter legally dead, and issues to do with his ‘miraculous’ recovery, but thankfully the Sheriff was willing to look past that if Peter actually _helped_ Derek to survive the Wolf Moon Meet with his head attached to his shoulders.

“Stiles is only eighteen, though.” The Sheriff pointed out, quite reasonably, Derek thought. “Surely they’d wait until they were considering kids…” he drifted off, suddenly uncomfortable, as he seemed to realise he was discussing hypothetical grandchildren of his own with a female werewolf who was not, in fact, female.

Derek sighed and Stiles turned scarlet, his scent souring with embarrassment, before he rounded on Peter.

“Okay, we got that. What else? Should we be… touchy?” he asked, waving his hands in Derek’s general direction. “I mean, we have to convince a conference centre full of super-sniffers that we’re in a loving, committed relationship. And that Dee is _not_ available for use as a handy-dandy werewolf incubator by another pack.”

Peter smirked and Derek tensed up, hands clenching into fists where he sat on the sofa. He was in his skinny jeans again, the ones that the girls had bought him, barefoot and had somehow ended up wearing one of Stiles’ t-shirts, it had shown up in his pile of clean laundry and he’d thrown it on without thinking that morning, not bothering to change when he’d heard Peter knocking on the front door.

“It looks like you’re already starting to do that.” Peter pointed out, looking at Derek’s chest, making him cross his arms over it in an automatic and defensive move.

“Sharing clothes is a good start, but you’ll need to be more ‘touchy’, as you put it, Stiles, before you go anywhere. You might want to start sleeping together.”

John made a noise of objection at that, and Peter hurried to continue. 

“Sleeping _in the same bed_ , Sheriff. Though if you were having sex, that’d help, too…”

Derek groaned and Stiles’ scent shifted again as his cheeks flamed, moving through embarrassed towards turned on and he moved in his seat, crossing his legs and avoiding Derek’s eyes as Derek tried not to look at the Sheriff, who he was _certain_ would be murderous.

He was right, that John was ready to shoot someone, but that someone was Peter.

“Hale, get out. I’m sure that the kids can figure this out.” he said, getting to his feet.

Peter, to his credit, didn’t challenge John, just slinked out the front door and wandered off, vanishing into the shadows of the neighbours’ oak tree and down the street.

John opened his mouth to speak but Derek held up a hand, a finger to his lips and listened until he could no longer detect Peters’ heartbeat, then nodded.

“So, Dee. Do you think that you two-“ he waved a hand between them, “-doing _that_ , might help your case?” he asked, looking uncomfortable himself.

Derek swallowed and tried hoped his voice would stay steady.

“I think - I think we can get away with just sharing a bed. Nothing else would be necessary. Some packs are… old fashioned. But we want to convince them that we’re engaged, so sharing a bed will help. We don’t need to _do_ anything, but even me living in this house means that our scents have mingled. Sharing the bathroom, the laundry. All helps.”

He looked down at his hands.

“I didn’t think that anything else would really be warranted, but like Peter pointed out, even with a human partner, a werewolf doesn’t like to sleep alone.”

John looked over at Derek sharply at that.

“Even you? How - have you been okay? You’ve been sleeping alone while you’ve been living here.” He paused, then rephrased. “You _have_ been sleeping alone while you’ve been living here, right?”

Derek nodded. It had been uncomfortable and he’d had more sleepless nights than restful ones, but he’d managed. It was probably why he hadn’t bothered to return the few things of Stiles’ that had worked their way into his laundry pile, because it gave him the illusion of sharing his den with someone else.  


Isaac was still living with the McCalls, and he was supposed to be sleeping in the guest room. But from his scent, and Scott’s, they had ended up piled together in one bed most evenings. Cora, on the other hand, was quite happy solo. She’d been living as an Omega for so long, she was used to it. A rare case, for a werewolf, that she could live without a pack. Probably a side-effect of losing hers at such a young age.

Peter was another matter entirely and Derek didn’t think about him.

“I’m fine, really, John. It’s okay. I spent a lot of nights alone before I was Alpha and I’m sure I’ll spend just as many alone in the future.”

John frowned.

“You know, if you need to… if it’ll make you feel better, you two can share a bed. Or… Isaac? Or your sister… they could stay here as well. I know you’re not _actually_ a wolf, but being alone can’t be much fun for you.”

Derek felt his cheeks start to burn and heard Stiles choking and rushing to object even as he shook his head and John rounded on his son.

“Stiles, come on, you told me how much research you did into werewolves when Scott got bitten, surely you know that an Alpha sleeping alone can’t be a good thing!”

Stiles, at least, had the good decency to look a little ashamed.

“Uh, well, Dee never said-“

The Sheriff just raised an eyebrow, and Stiles winced.

“You two are sharing a bed.” he said, and Derek almost choked on his tongue. 

“That’s not necessary!” he objected, but the older man wouldn't have a bar of it, shaking his head and holding up a hand to stop Derek.

“From what you have all told me about this Wolf Moon thing, you’re going to be under scrutiny from all angles, and showing up without a _believable_ mate is going to make life a lot harder for you.”

Derek nodded, swallowing, hard, biting his lips and feeling a lump rise in his throat.

“So, tonight I’m cooking us steaks for dinner, and can you make that green salad thing again?” he asked, and Derek nodded again, still not trusting his voice.

“Good. You two discuss your… arrangements, and I’m heading back to the station for a couple of hours."

He got to his feet and with a smile and a nod at Derek, followed by a severe look at his son, he patted himself down and left the house, taking the cruiser towards the station and humming along with the radio as he drove away.

Derek kept staring at the floor between his feet - oddly his toes were very similar in this form to how they’d been as a man, just not so hairy - while he listened to Stiles fidgeting and chewing on his tongue.

“So I’m going to make the salad.” Derek said after a long, awkward moment of quiet. “I’ll put it in the refrigerator when I’m done.” he added, getting to his feet and heading into the kitchen. 

In the week since he’d first cooked for Stiles and his father, Derek had managed to almost transform the kitchen entirely - a knife block with _good_ knives had been installed, a full set of saucepans and frypans purchased (as well as a real wok) and there was a stoneware jar on the counter by the stove that held wooden spoons, tongs, serving spoons and spatulas, now.

Concentrating on the salad, Derek didn’t notice Stiles come into the kitchen until he cleared his throat.

“So do, um. Do you want to sleep in my room, or should I move some things in with you?” he asked, not meeting Derek’s gaze as he washed a cos lettuce out in the sink.

Derek felt his cheeks heating up.

“I don’t mind. I’ve got less things, I guess. And you’ve got a queen bed, right? The one in the guest room is only a double.”

Stiles nodded.

“Okay. Sure. Uh, I’m going to go play Xbox for a while-“

“Sure, go. I’m going to the store to get some snacks, anyway.”

Stiles frowned at that, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“There’s _no_ chocolate in this house - trust me, I’d have found it.” he explained. “I know that you kept your Dad on a tight leash, but I thought you had a weakness for Reese’s Pieces?”

Stiles blushed a little at that and Derek felt himself smiling.

“I do, but I try to get them from vending machines and stuff.” he said, then looked up at Derek, eyebrows furrowed.

“Wait, you want chocolate?” he asked, confused. “You’re a complete health nut!”

Derek shrugged.

“Full moon is at the New Year.” he pointed out. “That and I want to make some cookies for Christmas, which is in two days, in case you’d forgotten.”

Stiles cursed, and Derek laughed a little.

“You had forgotten, hadn’t you?” Stiles nodded at him, making Derek laugh louder, because they had been sitting in the middle of the lounge room, surrounded by tinsel and fairy lights, and there had been a rather loud… discussion… about the positioning of the Christmas tree just a few days earlier.

“Come on, when I’ve finished making this salad we can go to the mall, you can get  your last minute presents and we can come home via the grocery store so I can get the things I need to make Christmas cookies.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

The mall was, predictably, overrun and there were small children shrieking, parents yelling and flash bulbs going off every few seconds for the Photos With Santa. Derek winced when they entered the space, and Stiles reached out, grabbing his hand without seeming to think about it, but he held on, knowing if he didn’t that they’d get separated, lost and fail in their mission.

He allowed himself to be led, happy that he’d pulled on the flat boots and the black knit sweater thing that he’d found while looking for more jeans that actually fit, and that nobody seemed to look at them twice as they weaved through the crowds. They headed straight for Macy's, because apparently the Sheriff was surprisingly easy to buy gifts for - his birthday was in the middle of summer, so Stiles made sure to get him a bottle of cologne for each event and they usually lasted for just on six months, meaning it was a reliable present.

It also meant that Derek was about to have a migraine hit him like a freight train because the perfume department of Macy's, two days before Christmas, was full of women 'demonstrating' scents, spraying artificial florals into the air and it was only made worse by the internal climate control that recycled the air in an attempt to keep the place warm.

Stiles squeezed his hand as they approached the right counter and leaned back into Derek's space to mutter an apology.

"I know, you hate cologne and stuff, but Dad loves it. And I like to get him something good. Can you - how about you go over there?" Stiles offered, pointing to the leather goods department adjacent. "I won't be long. Then we can go get the things you need to make cookies and get the hell out of here, alright?"

Derek nodded, eyes watering, and threaded his way through the crowds until he was deep among the purses, the smell of leather, metal and plastic much more appealing than the seemingly thousands of perfume scents that were lingering around the counters that Stiles was standing by.

He kept an eye on his shopping partner, idly looking at some of the nicer green and red purses, wondering if he should invest in one, but when Stiles still hadn't come to find him after about five minutes, he tuned his hearing in to try and find out what the hold up was.

Oh.

"Excus- oh. Fine. Uh - miss?" Derek frowned, because Stiles was being ignored, by the sound of it. He listened for another few seconds and heard him address at least two more people, still being brushed aside and then he rolled his eyes, leaving the safety of leather goods and zeroing in on where Stiles was standing beside an illuminated advertisement for Givenchy, looking miserable.

He lit up a bit when he spotted Derek, though, until he bit his lip and started to blush.

"I think they're ignoring me because I look like a kid." he muttered, even before Derek was close enough for a human to have believably heard him, and he shook his head, rolling his eyes and stepping up next to Stiles, holding out a hand and tugging him closer to one of the counters.

"Which one do you want to get him?" he asked, and Stiles pointed to one at the end of the counter in a black bottle. They both walked along the length of the glass display case until they came to a stop by the boxes of gift packages with the Armani fragrance, at which point Derek sighed and leaned forward on the counter, tapping on the glass and tracking one of the sales girls, eyes on her face, as she flitted around a few feet away, steadfastly ignoring them as she rearranged boxes.

Derek cleared his throat, and she kept her back to them, until he spoke up.

"Excuse me." he said, the raised eyebrow audible, and the sales girl turned to face them, sneering.

"Can I - uh - _help_ you?" she asked, and Derek sighed. He'd found himself the victim of a lot of this kind of behaviour lately, and he figured that it was something to do with a comment that Scott had made - calling him 'husky' - and he  _hated_ it. As a guy, all it had taken was a flash of a smile and salespeople fell over themselves to help him. Right now, however, the assistant was looking at him like he should be grateful that she was even taking the time to address him.

Fine. Time to blast the stereotype.

"Hi, I wanted to get my boyfriend one of the Armani gift packs?" he asked, pointing, and the assistant sighed, reaching for one and sliding the lid on, setting it down in front of them.

"$79.99." she told him, not meeting their eyes as she looked around for what she (apparently) thought were bigger fish.

"Okay." Taking out his wallet (which he had refused to give up - he only carried three cards and cash) Derek slapped down his secret weapon.

"Put it on that, please." he told her, and watched as her eyes widened and her entire demeanour changed. He was just glad that the black Amex just said 'D HALE' and didn't bear an honorific, or his full first name.

"Yes, miss, uh, was there anything else? There's a larger bottle, and a different package-"

Derek cut her off with the least sincere smile he could muster. 

"That's fine. You ignored my boyfriend for ten solid minutes, then treated me like dog-shit. If you think I'm going to make your commission check any fatter, you've got another thing coming. Gift-wrap that and think yourself lucky that I didn't ask to speak to your manager."

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm doing this because prompts are evil.
> 
> Also [tumblr](http://annagarny.tumblr.com) made me do it. Come harass me there for quicker updates.


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